Land Of The Free
by Vengeful Soldier
Summary: With the destruction of Raven Rock it seemed that the end of the Enclave, and with them the last vestiges of the American Government was at hand. That, is simply not the case.
1. Chapter 1

In the final moments of the computer AI and president of the Enclave, John Henry Eden, he transmitted a signal. A hard coded contingency fail safe that had been programmed into his core processes so as to be made impossible for anyone, even the AI to remove without rendering it unserviceable. Even as Raven Rock collapsed and exploded around the sentient computer, flames licking at its data banks it sent the encrypted message at full power to pre-war determined coordinates.

The Signal bounced off what few satellites were still functioning in orbit and beamed down to transmitters that had been waiting patiently for over two hundred years for that very signal. Waiting for the command that they had been designed to receive.

As the transmitters finally received the command they had been waiting so patiently to arrive, old world machinery began to come alive. Lights slowly powering on, revealing row after row of cryo stasis chambers that had been nestled safely in the bowels of the earth. Tucked away from the madness above and the horrors of the great war and time after. Machinery whirring and groaning like some beast waking from a long slumber. Robot custodians trundling along on tracks, plodding forward of clumsy metal legs, or else hovering above the ground with a quiet whirring.

Amber lights began to rotate, splashing the still dark interior of the complex with intermittent light as the first of the pods began to open.

xxx

Lucas Jansen was cold. It was a chill that had settled deep into his bones after being in cryo sleep for over two hundred years and no amount of hot coffee, shivering, or warm blankets seemed able to warm him up. It was as if his time in cryo had turned his bones to ice, his skin to frost, and his blood to freon.

He was told that it was a side effect of his long inactivity. That proper rest, food, and time would see the symptoms cease, but until then he would remain feeling like a chilled bottle of vintage wine. Lucas had become used to the cold before the war. Could deal with it better than most other men could.

He was a veteran of the Canadian and Alaskan campaigns, a soldier who had spent his time on the frontlines rather than in garrison. It was because of his commitment to the cause and experience that he had been selected to stay in one of the giant underground vaults that had been built to weather a possible nuclear storm. An offer that had come extended to his family and allowed them to shelter in safety when the storm had come to pass.

Lucas is, or perhaps it was more apt to say was a Green Beret before the nukes had fallen. An elite soldier for the United States, and now for the inheritor of its legacy and authority the Enclave. He had been well trained, well equipped, experienced, and most importantly loyal which was why he now found himself in Vault Prime. Why he was still alive.

Vault Prime as it was called was a massive installation sprawling for miles underground, home to some 10000 Enclave members and their families. Nestled in the Black Hills of South Dakota it contained a vast treasure trove of manufacturing facilities, weapons stores, hydroponic farms, and large scale geothermal and fusion reactors for power. It didn't have the capacity to house all of its residents once they were all woken up as it were, but Lucas wasn't the first to be woken up and already a fortified settlement had taken shape outside of the vault.

Officially only 122 vaults had been commissioned in the continental United States, but unofficially there were several dozen other vaults constructed for government use only and a now unknown number of privately constructed vaults. There had also been a series of vaults constructed up in Canada, but if they had ever been occupied or had been left empty was as of yet unknown.

They had managed to establish contact with remnants of the Enclave that had stayed awake, and in doing so had established a place where those without purpose could gather. A place where what remained of the once mighty enclave could gather.

A year had passed since the original signal had been broadcast, waking Lucas and everyone else here from their long sleep, and in that year they had hadn't been idle. They'd brought the manufacturing facilities back online, prepped the living quarters, opened the armories, and insured that their new home was both secure and fully functional.

They hadn't done a great deal of scouting beyond sending out the occasional eyebot to scout their immediate surroundings and even those excursions had been brief. They didn't want to attract attention before the majority of those still asleep were awake, but they couldn't wake them up until they were sure that they could feed, house, care for, and keep safe all that were with them.

Such a challenge was quickly being met however, and the awakenings were increasing exponentially. Prioritizing the engineers, technicians, and scientists over the soldiers. Now that they felt secure enough in their position to not cower within Vault Prime however, teams were being sent out to make contact with other communities in the region after careful study, which was why members like Lucas were awakening.

There were several other vaults in the area that they were working on making contact with. Vaults 123, 124, 125, and 126 in the state. All were regular sized vaults containing at most 1000 people without the massive warehouses that Vault Prime contained.

By making contact with the Enclave that had remained awake they had been given some of their files containing information on advanced power armor and energy weapons. Technology that even now was in the process of being manufactured in Vault Prime. Already several dozen suits of advanced power armor MK II had been manufactured, proving superior in maintenance, autonomy, and performance to the T-51B armor that they had in stock. Except for raw protection in which the older T-51B still dominated being bigger and bulkier than the newer counterpart. Though the bulk of what they had for personal protection was still advanced reinforced combat armor.

As for the members themselves they were scattered with no clear purpose after having suffered a series of devastating setbacks and defeats over the past couple of decades. They were isolated, dwindling, a shadow of what they had once been. Yet, they were still Enclave and General Winters, the overall commander of Vault Prime was reaching out to them. Offering sanctuary and protection to those who remained. They came in small groups, trickling in every few weeks, or so Lucas had been told. Vault Prime was a big place and he had just woken up as it were.

The largest had been a group of 400 or so assorted personnel, under the command of one Colonel Augustus Autumn. Though the majority of those personnel had been children and had caused them to accelerate their plans to institute viable elementary and high schools. So far, they and the other remnants children were the only attendees.

Colonel Autumn and his group had arrived via vertibird with stores of power armor, blueprints, and data records for what had transpired in the past 200 years. They had also given account of someone simply called the Lone Wanderer, but the way they spoke of him made him seem more like a superhuman deity rather than a man. Something like a force of nature instead of a flesh and blood creation.

They had lost Adams air force base, though had retained the knowledge of how to make their hellfire armor. Upgrades from that armor would be applied to the new models of power armor and combat armor that the vast manufacturing facilities of Vault Prime continuously churned out. Though the majority of what was made at the moment was building supplies and machine parts.

The Enclave wasn't looking to make war, not yet at least. They needed to establish their home, secure their living space, and ensure that they had an adequate supply of food, water, and energy before the latest power armor or plasma weaponry.

They had established contact with one of the only significant Enclave bastions left on the continental United Sates. The group in Chicago had been in disarray following the string of defeats and losses that the Enclave had suffered, but with General Winters reestablishing contact and sending supply runs to them via vertibird it had stopped the desertions. In doing so they had not only managed to maintain the Enclave forces in Chicago and elsewhere, but expand their presence.

Still, the Remnant Enclave, those who had stayed awake saw Colonel Autumn as their defacto leader and deferred to him in nearly all matters, leading to a somewhat precarious relationship between Winters and Autumn. Each controlling their own faction within the Enclave, though one technically outranking the other.

Xxx

"I hadn't imagined that the Enclave would have gotten soft after the bombs fell, but it would appear that even I am capable of being wrong," said General Winters derisively to Colonel Augustus Autumn, the junior officer remaining standing while his superior remained seated.

"I wouldn't call it soft sir."

"Then what would you call it Colonel?"

"I would call it a shift in strategy. We've tried going it alone before, tried creating a new world simply from within the Enclave itself, but we failed to do so time and again. We failed despite greater intelligence, coordination, supply, and technology."

"You didn't have Vault Prime and its resources before Colonel. Didn't have the numbers that we have now. We have to ability to not only maintain, but manufacture anything we need at pre-war factory levels. Our automated defenses have been repaired along with our communication arrays. In a few more weeks we will again be expanding our perimeter walls outward, allowing for the construction of new living space and allowing us to awaken more members in a self-renewing cycle."

"No we didn't have this," conceded Autumn. "We had the Oil Rig instead. We had Navarro, Raven Rock, Andrews Air Force Base, the Crawler, satellites armed with missiles, superior mobility, and the same arrogance that you have now General."

"If you have a point to make Colonel, make it."

"The wasteland is too big to rule only through fear, you can't rebuild a nation with that and you don't have the numbers. You have 55 000 people frozen here but eighty percent of those are civilians, and most are children. You can't both secure your own territory and wage a campaign against your enemies if you act like a tyrant. You don't have the numbers to do it, nobody does. There's already other nations forming, other groups armed with weapons and technology that could threaten us even now were they to discover us."

"The NCR is distant, but they have many more people than we do and they're constantly expanding. They've managed to establish their own laws, education system, and taxation. They have the numbers, trade, and industry to put us into a very delicate position. They have no love for the Enclave and have actually made an effort to hunt down our members who have tried to leave the organization and destroy our outposts and facilities wherever they find them. If they were to learn of our existence, you can be sure that they would put plans in place to eradicate us."

"Then there's the Legion which is an aggressive and expansionist tribe that lives for war and conquest. Constantly amalgamating new lands and tribes into the Legion. They harken back to the days of Ancient Rome, practicing slavery, dressing in crimson livery, and favoring melee weapons. They are harsh in their laws and customs, but their lands are safe. Remarkably free of gangs or raiders. Their technology is primitive, but they have motivation, leadership, and have pulled off some impressive victories."

"Then there is the Brotherhood of Steel, which is fanatical in their attempts to hoard and preserve technology of pre-war America while refusing to allow others to access it. Although sapped of a great deal of their strength from their war with the NCR they are still a formidable force. Armed with power armor and advanced weapons, they have none too fond memories of us. In many cases people see them as little more than power armored bullies, but around Washington, they are seen as saviors. An anomaly to be sure, but an anomaly that has seen the ranks of the Eastern Brotherhood swell with new recruits."

"Colonel get to the point and quit wasting my time with reports. I've heard all this before and I'm quite well aware of the groups that we face."

"Of course sir," said Autumn, remaining implacably calm despite the brusque tone that his superior was taking with him. "Despite the vast differences that all of our rivals have in both approach and goals in post war America, they all have one thing that we lack. Legitimacy."

"What," said General Winters, voice deathly quiet and eyes narrowing to pinpricks of rage. Muscles tensing like a predator about to pounce. "Explain yourself Colonel. Now."

"We claim a direct line to the pre-war American government, but they fell over two hundred years ago. They ceased providing services, ceased seeing to the needs of their people, and we haven't made it a priority to restore such services. In their absence, our absence, these other nations emerged to fill the void and believe me General, they are nation states. With their own currency, laws, and military force. They provide security to the people who live in their territory, amalgamate those they encounter as they expand, and see to their needs. They are the government in their regions, because they behave as a government should."

"Even the eastern Brotherhood, though refraining from forming itself into an official government has taken on that role in several capacities. People with nothing give the Brotherhood food, ammo, recruits, and any pre-war tech that they can scavenge while in exchange the Brotherhood offers protection and clean drinking water. Something that until recently was in very short supply and something that I and my colleagues foolishly tried to poison to kill off those who survived in the wasteland after the bombs fell, because we felt them contaminated. Instead of distributing the water ourselves and providing safety and security to the Capital Wasteland gaining their gratitude and support. We instead behaved not as a resurgent American Government ready to once again take up the mantle, but petty tyrants. No better than the common raiders and brigands who prowl the Capital Wasteland. If we are to survive in this world, prosper in it, we must act as _the_ definitive American Government."

"So after failing several times in your own attempts Colonel you now presume to tell us how we should proceed? Forgive me if I am skeptical of your ascertains."

"I am advising you now to reinforce failure Sir. I will admit that I was once upon a time of the same mind. I didn't see the common wastelander as worth the time or resources that it would take to educate and train them to be useful. In light of recent events though I have had to debate the usefulness of wastelanders after being so soundly defeated by, and then spared by one. The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome. South Dakota has all the raw resources that we need to start rebuilding a nation state. Oil, iron, rare earth metals for electronic and power armor manufacture and Uranium for power plants. There are many tribes and settlements in the area. The people are desperate for safety and security. If we offer medical treatment, protection, and education while improving their standard of living we will have legitimacy without the need for fear."

"So what? We take in tribals, ghouls, and raiders? Let them into Vault Prime and all sing kumbaya? These tribes that you've talked about already have their own hierarchy, their own traditions. Why would they follow us? They raid and pillage to survive. They have no need for what we have to offer unless you intend on giving them guns which they'll just turn against us. Most have deep seated hatred against each other that go back to the early days after the Great War. They'd never agree to work together."

"America wasn't just formed with words General. It was the United States cavalry that claimed the west and allowed us to expand in days of yore. Whether the tribes follow us peacefully and integrate, or we crush them underfoot will endear the farming settlements and caravan companies to us regardless. We will need a larger and more natural supply of food if we intend on awakening all of those frozen in sleep here and we need those who are familiar with working the soil. As for the ghouls, eventually they all turn feral. It's as inevitable as the radiation slowly deteriorating their brains, but disgusting as they are, they still have their uses and as such should be seen as the tools they are. Potentially valuable tools."

"So you would consort with ghouls?"

"I would use them as I would a shovel or a pistol Sir. Most of our population will be pre-war civilians with no idea of how to survive in the wasteland. The farmers and tribals can teach us how to survive in the new world just as we teach them how to use the knowledge of the old world to better themselves. The ghouls we can send to areas that would otherwise be impossible for us to access, even with protective suits or power armor. It will lead to a state of natural symbiosis and the beginning of the return of the American Nation State. Though, I do believe that we both agree on the first course of action that we have to take."

"On that point we have no disagreement Colonel."

xxx

The South Dakota Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel was a small one. Consisting of two hundred members at most, it was more a listening post than an actual Chapter, although they still did as their codex mandated.

They combed through what they could of the pre-war military bases and buildings, searching for technology and advanced weapons, but installations like Ellsworth Air Force Base proved too formidable, even for their power armored soldiers. Old military robots, ghouls, both feral and non, and said ghouls with enough pre-war military hardware to put South Dakota through a second Armageddon kept the Brotherhood well away.

Despite the dangers of Deathclaws, Rad Cougars, raiders, tribals, radiation, and everything else the wasteland liked to throw at its inhabitants, the Brotherhood knights and paladins still found patrols a mundane tedium. Armored in T-51B and T-45D power armor, very little could menace them. Even fewer were the threats that could actually close to engage with them before being torn to shreds by laser, Gauss, or explosive rounds.

Their armored boots sunk deep into the soft soil beside the remains of the I-90. They were close to North Sue City, and as such made sure to keep a wide berth. North Sue City had been home to a pre-war protectron factory that the residents, and robots themselves made sure to keep running and pumping out new protectrons. Though at a very reduced rate.

They sold them to traveling merchants who didn't mind the clanging as they plodded after their caravan, farmers who could afford a robot guard dog, and to the barons in Miracle Pier who controlled the water trade routes. A city that had been remarkably been spared nuclear annihilation in the Great War.

Obviously it was a prime target for the Brotherhood because of the protectron factory, but North Sue City made sure to keep a very large amount of protectrons roaming the perimeter of their town. Keeping them safe, and the Brotherhood out. It was an uneasy dance that they participated in. North Sue City knew that the Brotherhood could take the factory if they wanted to, But the Brotherhood knew that to do so would cost too many lives to do it. So the Brotherhood stayed out at a range where very few things could menace them.

A high velocity 25mm armor piercing sabot round proved to be one of those that could and the round crushed through an old and battered T-45D helmet. Turning it to scrap metal and the skull beneath to meaty chunks of bone and gray matter.

The body of the Brotherhood Knight hit the ground before the rolling crack of the weapon reached them. Then, in a manner of speaking, all hell broke loose.

Tracer, Gauss, laser, rocket, and plasma fire streaked in from every direction into the five man Brotherhood patrol as a force five times their number ambushed them. It took fifteen seconds for the patrol to be completely annihilated, most not even getting a shot off and for the couple who did, they were more reflex than aimed.

"Sigma Squad, 4 mags 2 boxes expended, no injuries."

"Delta Squad, 4 mags 2 rockets expended, no injuries."

"Zeta Squad, 4 boxes two mags expended, no injuries."

"Gamma Squad, two mags expended no injuries. Target, eliminated. All teams, rendezvous at point nuka."

Black power armored soldiers revealed themselves from where they had been hiding under camouflage netting, behind old cars, or in the case of Gamma Squad, over a kilometer away. Then, just as quickly as they had revealed themselves, they disappeared. Their part was done in the operation and the other platoons would see to theirs.

A similar scene replayed itself several times that night, all with similar results and all with the Enclave soldiers disappearing into the night like black armored ghosts. Brief and violent exchanges of weapons fire that would shatter the quiet of the night, before fading away all together into a deathly silence.

The bunker that the Brotherhood had chosen as their home had supposed to have been used as a fallout shelter for top civilian and military leaders in the area, but due to a tragic mishap, this was never done. The South Dakota Missile Defense Union had sounded the ala

rm as a drill rather than as the very real Armageddon that was coming. The result of such a catastrophic failure in communication meant that the bunker had remained unused and inactive. Well, at least until the brotherhood had found it.

It was a bunker that stretched hundreds of feet underground layered with reinforced concrete, space age metals, and dirt. With its self-contained filters, reactors, living quarters, and food processors much like those found in the Vault-Tec Vaults. It was a vault in all but name and lacking the obscene protection afforded to one by their massive doors.

High above the bunker a pair of vertibirds flew in formation, struggling under the weight of their payloads. Mini nukes clinging to their undersides like spore clusters and filling their bomb bays to capacity. One broke formation and began circling the bunker, while the other stopped and hovered directly overhead.

Then, like a bomber from a bygone era released the mini nukes in a furious expulsion like spore clusters bursting open. The bombs whistling silently as they fell to the earth below. For a minute there was nothing but the quiet of the night, then, in a multitude of furious detonations it was shattered.

Mushroom clouds reached ever upwards only to be scattered by the next detonation of atomic fire and so it continued until not a single mini nuke remained aboard the vertibird. With a rocking of wings the vertibird moved from its position and allowed the second to take position.

The top levels of the bunker had been laid open. Thick concrete peeled back like scab from a wound and steel torn open to reveal the innards of the bunker within. With the flick of a switch the next barrage of mini nukes fell into the yawning chasm of the bunker's roof, explosions rocking and tearing the bunker apart even as it caused more levels within to collapse in on themselves. When the payload was complete the bunker was a burning ruin. Any levels further down that had survived were now buried under tonnes of rock, steel, and concrete. Forever entombing those who had survived inside. The Dakota Chapter of the Brotherhood of steel would no longer be a threat.

Just to be sure though, the Enclave would spend the next month scouring the area around the bunker. Looking for secret exit tunnels, hidden entrances, and most importantly survivors. Needless to say, the Enclave were incredibly thorough in their efforts.

xxx

South Dakota had changed and it sent a pang of grief through Lucas to scout through the ruins that remained of what had once been America.

Crumbling houses, rusted out cars, and blackened bones were what Lucas and his squad found. The old world was a graveyard now and they were picking though its bones like hyenas. What they were looking for even Lucas wasn't sure, or if they were even looking for anything at all. Perhaps this was the way that the higher ups had decided to acclimatize them to their new world. Throw them into the fire and fix the cracks that the heat revealed in their psyche.

If they were looking for a crack in Lucas they weren't going to find one. He'd been hardened against this cruelty and despair back before he had been put to sleep in cryo. This world, depressing as it was, was just another battlefield.

They had picked through the remains of Rapid City, careful to avoid any other scavengers combing the ruins for anything of value, and the less human variety that were less discerning in what they found.

Rapid City was clear of radiation for the most part, but of there was the merest shadow of its pre-war population of 100 000 remaining. Many had died in the chaos of the immediate aftermath of the bombs falling, more still to the first winter without power which was made unbearably cold by the dust sent into the atmosphere from nuclear detonation.

Today they weren't poking through the ashes of the old world in Rapid City as they had been doing for the past week, but rather observing the seeds that had taken root and sprouted roots from the ruins.

There were tribes scattered throughout South Dakota. Many little better than stone age savages thought to have been forgotten to the annals of history as mankind had marched ever forward in the pursuit of progress. Perhaps a passing curiosity that would occasionally emerge from the heart of the Amazon or else the deepest depths of the African continent. Yet with the end upon them people had learned how to survive in their new world lest they perish and had started over again at square one. With rock and bone.

Aggressive was a word to describe many of these tribes. While some were at least capable of subsistence farming they were not above raiding and pillaging their neighbors. Whether they be other tribes, or else towns whose residents at least clung to some form of civility.

The farmers were the ones who wore what could at least be called clothing and who at least knew enough about farming so that they could live above sustenance. So that they were able to trade with one another, develop specialized roles within their community and create goods rather than just scavenge for them. A true society. Perhaps not as advanced as what had existed before the bombs had fallen, but nevertheless it was progress. A glimmer of what had been.

Full power armor seemed a little excessive to observe them in and pre-war it would have been, but with some of the wildlife that had been observed, Lucas wasn't going to complain about wearing it. If anything he wished that it was thicker.

The MK II power armor that they had been given was excellent. Lightweight, strong, and with some upgrades from the facilities in Vault Prime, the optics and sensors aboard the suit were top notch, even compared to pre-war tech. Though it lacked the bulk and protection of other models save for the T-45 series in which it was superior in every regard.

They were also experimenting with the MK I advance power armor since it proved easier and cheaper to produce whilst offering more protection while being much bulkier making urban maneuvering harder, but they were going to have to make a decision soon. In fact Lucas was wearing the MK I right now and he had no complaints about it. It was superior in every regard to the T51B that he had worn before the bombs fell.

They now had stores of 4 different models of power armor at Vault Prime and part standardization was going to be hard if they decided they wanted the tesla or hellfire armor that Lucas had heard about. In his opinion, they should stick with the MK I and MK II advanced power armor.

The MK I armor being fully black with eyes that could glow allowed for excellent intimidation, but it didn't allow for equally as excellent concealment so Lucas did his best to mostly stay immobile and merely observe. A test more suited for an eyebot truth be told or a man dressed in recon armor, but command wanted boots on the ground and that was where Lucas and those like him came into play.

Right now he was watching a family of farmers tilling the fields around their shack. It had been his job over the last month to observe the farmers closest to Vault Prime and although it could prove tedius It was like watching a history reel back in high school, except their plow hooked to oxen were instead two-headed cows that people had taken to calling brahmin. They were ugly beasts to be sure, hairless, pinkish red, and possessing two heads they were a far cry from the cow that they had descended from.

The seeding so far as he could see was all done by hand by walking and flinging handfuls of seed down into the dirt like medieval serfs had done in centuries past. The tilling was done with either manual tools or else animal drawn ploughs. Primitive, but effective farming.

Lucas had to admit that he liked watching these farmers work. It was like seeing something normal. Something from before the war. Family, productivity, self-sufficiency, dependance, and purpose all wrapped up into one. They weren't concerned merely with surviving from day to day, but rather building something that they could inherit in the future. Looking forward to a better and brighter tomorrow, yet there was still danger.

These farmers were not left in peace by mere fortune, they paid for it. They bribed the tribes in the area with food so that they would leave them in peace. Lucas had seen them come, dressed in boiled leather and painted skin. They had demanded food and had seemed unsatisfied by what the family had offered. The father had protested when they had demanded more, but a blow to the head which had knocked the man to the ground had quelled any opposition. It had been a hard winter and the tribals were hungry so they took what they wanted which seemed to leave pitifully little for the family themselves. Scarcely more than seed crop.

They had guns to be sure. An old hunting rifle, a large revolver, and a double barreled shotgun that they carried around with them no matter what they were doing. Each weapon given to a different family member to defend themselves both from human threats, and animal ones. Not enough for each of them to have one, but enough to give them a fighting chance at survival. Yet not enough to fight off the tribals.

Lucas himself was armed with a plasma defender pistol nestled in a ceramic holster on his hip and a gatling gun secured to his back. The weapon well oiled and loaded with high velocity armor piercing rounds that fed from the pack secured to his back to the gun. Weaponry leagues above what the farmers had and enough to allow him to deal with any threat he could face. 1500 rounds of 5mm ammunition could deal with most anything.

Staying immobile wasn't an issue for Lucas, even crouched down as he was it didn't strain him at all. All he had to do was lock the servos in his suit and then basically sit so that was what he did.

He liked watching the children the most. One of the little girls was about the same age that his Sister's Jessica was. She looked a lot like her too and it sent a pang of longing stabbing through the heart of the Enclave Soldier as he watched her follow after her mother. Maybe 8 years old with hair the same color as the wheat that she was helping to plant. His suit recorded everything that he saw or watched and knew that it would be picked over in great detail when he returned to Vault Prime.

Lucas switched his gaze as his suit highlighted movement in the far clump of trees on the opposite side of the farm, an orange targeting box falling over the three adult males of the Skull Breaker Tribe. So named because of their fondness for crushing their enemies skulls with whatever heavy or blunt object happened to be on hand at the time. Sledgehammers with wicked spikes forged onto them being a favorite weapon of theirs.

They thought that they were hidden. Dressed in forest and earthy colors they blended in nearly perfectly to the valley flora. They moved slowly, almost a part of the landscape itself in how adept they were at moving undetected, but they'd never had to try and hide from sensors that searched for silhouettes, heat, movement, and if close enough, the electrical impulses of nerves. A nifty upgrade that Vault Prime had added to their suits.

Lucas watched them, cameras in his helmet zooming in on them and recording their movements. He realized that they were doing the very same thing that he was doing, only that their intentions were no doubt much more nefarious for the farming family.

The family paid tribute to the Iron Hide and Strong Fist tribes. Each one having gotten their name for their trademark equipment. The Iron Hide Tribe favored heavy armor made of various salvaged metal while the Strong Fist Tribe had gotten their hands on a cache of power fists sometime either before or after the bombs had fallen. Though those were relics in their tribe now, so its members more so relied on Yao Guai, bladed, or if the hunter was exceptionally skilled, a Deathclaw gauntlet.

As such they didn't have the food to both bribe the Skull Breakers and feed themselves. Much less plant a crop for the next year. The tribes that they bribed offered them no protection beyond promising that their own members wouldn't harass or kill them. If the Skull Breakers decided to attack them, they would be on their own.

Telling himself that it was a precaution, but knowing that he was entertaining a fantasy, Lucas lined up a targeting solution on the trio of tribals. The MK I power armor guaranteeing with a 98% accuracy that the first burst of sixty rounds would eliminate all three of the Skull Breakers. All it would take would be for his to squeeze the firing studs and the threat to the farmers would be gone. Still, it was against his orders to engage in combat or reveal himself unless absolutely necessary, so Lucas secured the minigun back into its holding rack and merely watched.

Xxx

Lucas walked back into Inheritance with the rest of the scouts, the name that had been given to the town that had formed outside of Vault Prime, or rather been built outside of it. It was more like a fortified military camp than a town though. Automated turrets sat in their perches overlooking the approaches leading to the gate and walls. Muzzles tracking for targets, while guards armed with plasma rifles and power armor prowled atop the prefabricated walls. Snipers armed with anti-material or gauss rifles perched in the guard towers scanning for threats. Sentry bots and Mr. Gutsy robots trundled back in forth inside and outside the walls, or else guarded the gate. They had plasma weapons, rapid fire 5mm gatling guns, missile launchers, and gatling lasers equipped. Weaponry that could even make a man in power armor take pause.

Even being on the surface now, they still built underground both for protection and to prepare for the coming winter so that they could conserve heat and energy. No building was higher than one story tall, but all of them had a basement which was also the main living area. They were square structures with slanted roofs made of entirely of prefabricated materials matte gray in appearance and entirely radiation proof so long as a nuke wasn't dropped directly on top of them. They also came equipped with solar panels on the roofs to help supplement power to the grid and make each home more or less energy independent.

They were built in neat rows, reminiscent of pre-war suburbia, but with much smaller houses and lots. Paved roads ran by in front of them though as of yet they hadn't gotten any of their vehicles beyond vertibirds running. Or perhaps they were sequestering all of the fuel for the vertibirds. Either way, he doubted that he'd be behind the wheel of a car any time soon. Or really live how he did before the war any time soon. At least the valleys around Vault Prime had greenery and trees to look at. It was at least something reminiscent of what had once been.

After the reports had been made and power armor turned back into stores along with the heavier weapons, Lucas found himself laying on his bed, R91 rifle freshly oiled next to him as he held a book, not reading it and instead thinking about the farmers.

They were going to be attacked, of that much he was certain, he just didn't know when or by how many. If Lucas did nothing, he knew that they were going to die, but he couldn't act without orders, wouldn't act without orders. He wouldn't just be a simple deserter like others had been before the bombs fell. Wouldn't be able to just go and hop across the border into Mexico like conscripted grunts had done. Him disobeying orders or going AWOL would have very real consequences. For him and his sisters family that the Enclave had made space for.

If at the very least they kicked him out, it would be a death sentence. He had no idea how to survive in this world. He was learning, slowly, but he had trained for war in another time. Yet, the reasons he fought were still the same. It seemed too damned reminiscent of what the Chinese had done to American citizens in Alaska. Those who had been unwilling to cooperate with the communists had met truly horrific fates at the hands of those red bastards. Some of those scenes still haunted him to this day. How he had watched some atrocities while performing recon in Alaska, but been unable to act still gnawed at him even now.

With a huff he got up and went to the small writing desk he had in his room. In reality he could touch both walls in his room if he outstretched his arms and all he really had to do to get to the desk was swing his legs off of the bed and into the chair.

He booted up the computer and began typing. He restarted the whole process several times, dissatisfied with what he had written and trying to find a way to put what he wanted into words that his superiors would approve of. They wouldn't approve of Lucas merely wanting to play the hero so that he didn't have to live with the regret of yet another massacre as the result of inaction.

In the end he decided that an emotional ploy or one that tried to play to the potential benefits of protecting the farmers from attack would be soundly ignored. Instead, he wrote the memo in regards to what he thought of as suspicious activity at the homestead and requested that he be given permission to observe them at night. Lucas knew that the possibility of living next to cannibals would certainly get the attention of his superiors. He didn't outright say as much about the farmers, but he hinted strongly at the possibility of it.

After he had sent the email off, he set his alarm and went to bed. Combat armor and rifle within easy reach should a stand to be called. Another reason that the soldiers had been given quarters outside the vault while the scientists and technicians were allowed to live within it and bring its systems online. It made sense though, Inheritance was merely another line of defense for Vault Prime.

Xxx

Lucas' memo was still being processed, but he was sure that it was going to be approved. The Enclave were nothing if not cautious and would no doubt assign someone or something to observe the farmstead at night. Whether it was him or not remained to be seen. He hoped that it was, but he couldn't be sure. For now though, he and his squad had been assigned a new mission. One that saw them and the rest of their power armored platoon surround the Rapid City Public Library. Or at least what remained of it.

It was a monument to pre-war knowledge and learning. Still standing defiantly all these years after nuclear annihilation underneath the noonday sun. Where banners had once hung from metal poles, only rusted metal nubs remained and the library itself wasn't in much better shape.

The building itself was dilapidated and rundown. Concrete chipped and pitted while revealing the rusted metal supports and rebar beneath. The result of two hundred years of neglect and exposure to the elements. Still, construction methods before the bombs had fallen had been top notch, at least when followed and as a result the building was still standing. Albeit with many of its windows smashed out, the glass long since carried away by turbulent winds.

It seemed that the Brotherhood of Steel was not so easily stamped out. Eyebots had detected a group of them who had been combing the ruins of the library for any useful data or holotapes. Pre-war books on science, metallurgy, farming, anything that could be of value and what they could keep out of the hands of people they viewed as unworthy or possessing it.

The thought had been to firebomb the library to oblivion, but it had been designated a pre-war command shelter and could contain valuable information about the hours leading up to and after the bombs had fallen. It also didn't sit well with command, the thought of having to destroy a place of knowledge that had managed to survive for so long. That, and the fact that the library had been hosting an experimental autonomous seeding robot exhibit supposedly complete with schematics was the reason that a ground assault had been chosen. Primary objective was the eradication of the Brotherhood. Data retrieval and schematic recovery was secondary.

"Estimated presence is 10 hostiles, only half are expected to be wearing power armor and carrying heavy weapons. The rest are carrying light laser weaponry and no armor. Prepare to breach."

The radio cut out in Lucas' helmet and he the leader of his squad, Captain Gonzales made several gestures with his hand that all present immediately understood. Thule Squad would be going in after the sentry bots breached the main doors.

The doors had been reinforced with scrap that had been lying around the ruins of rapid city. Car parts, building supplies, and good old fashioned debris had been used. It all disappeared in an instant as the sentry bots launched a barrage of rockets at it.

The thundering booms of detonation was muffled, muted by the audio receptors of Lucas' MK I power armor and the lenses in his helmet polarized to save any potential damage or disadvantageous temporary alterations to his visual acuity.

The sentry bots quickly followed up their rocket attack by trundling forward, miniguns blazing as they raked the interior of the library with automatic fire. Another pair of Mr. Gutsy robots modified with smoke grenade launchers launched canisters of tear gas into the building while also throwing out smoke grenades to hide the movement of Lucas' team and Gamma squad as they entered the library. Red laser fire and high powered Gauss shots pummeled the sentry bots in well aimed shots, not at all like the wild, inaccurate fire that raiders would use.

The laser fire scored the shells of the sentry bots the ionizing cracks inaudible over the roar of conventional weapons fire, but failed to penetrate their hardened bodies. The Gauss rounds found no such difficulty, punching through the armor of the robots and removing limbs even as the sentry bots put out a punishing fusillade of bullets.

Lucas and his squad entered behind a second pair of sentry bots just as one of the first two to enter the library ground to a halt with an electronic whine as sparks erupted from its ruptured torso. Its partner still firing its minigun unimpeded despite having lost the missile launcher attachment and entire arm that it was attached to.

Lucas' squad and Gamma squad quickly added their own firepower to that of the sentry bots. Sending rapid fire 5mm, laser, and plasma careening towards the Brotherhood of Steel soldiers. One of the power armored Brotherhood members stood was caught in three separate streams of armor piercing 5mm rounds as he tried to line up a shot with his Gauss rifle. The hailstorm of bullets literally ripping the man apart as it dismantled first his power armor and then himself. Lucas watching the ammo counter in the bottom right of his HUD slowly count down as he sent streams of bullets into any hostile that came across his gun sights.

A pair of Brotherhood Knights fired on them from the mezzanine above, but a rocket from the sentry bots collapsed the ground that they were standing on, causing them to fall with the debris. The fire that the Enclave poured into the rubble and Brotherhood trapped within turned it into rock dust and molten slag.

"Gamma Squad, take the upper mezzanine. Thule squad, take the basement levels. Eliminate any survivors. Move."

The command was curt and to the point as it always was from Major Loche. Sometimes affectionately called Major Loche and Load for his insistence on being on the front lines of any operation he planned with his men. Sharing the same risks they did and outperforming men half his age. A mark of pride for him and awe for the men serving under him. Age slowing a man down very little when he was propelled forward by hardened ceramics and space age metals.

Lucas was almost taken aback as he entered the basement and his squad split to hunt down the remaining Brotherhood of steel members. A pistol round pinged off his chest plate. A 10mm round to be precise from some sort of pipe rifle, followed by a flurry of other small caliber weapons fire. Completely ineffectual towards Lucas. It appeared that the Brotherhood had hired local help in combing through the library. Made sense after a fashion, they hadn't had a great deal of manpower to begin with and extra hands were always welcome.

Lucas put the glow of his suits 'eyes' to full brightness and spoke using the suits enhanced audio speakers.

"Drop your weapons and lay face down on the floor or I will open fire!"

More rounds pinged off of Lucas' power armor and he grit his teeth in frustration.

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND LAY FACE DOWN NOW OR I OPEN FIRE!" repeated Lucas, voice a near deafening roar in the molding basement of the library as the barrels of his minigun began to rotate. Made truly terrifying and inhuman by the mild feedback, distorting his voice ever so slightly. A couple of the locals listened and dropped to the ground, hands over their heads. Their makeshift weapons thrown to the side as if they were about to explode, which judging by their condition was a very likely possibility. The others continued shooting or else began retreating further into the depths of the myriad of offices and storage rooms in the basement. Lucas didn't give them the chance.

He held down the firing studs, brass hitting the floor almost as furiously as the rounds hit the locals who had continued shooting. They barrage of 5mm rounds ripped limbs from bodies, ripped old plaster from the walls, and turned centuries old concrete into rock chips and fine dust that filled the hall like fog. When there was no more resistance, Lucas continued forwards, barrels still rotating as he thudded past the few had surrendered. Hands still held above their heads, fingers trembling.

"Don't move until I come back," warned Lucas. Pausing only briefly as a friendly IFF tag came into view, followed shortly by Sergeant Takeo Wananabe. Plasma gun held up and ready.

"Local resistance?" asked Takeo, eying the wastelanders. Voice coming in over the radios in their helmets.

"Hired help. Low threat and not looking to die. Well, these ones weren't at least and orders are clear. No unnecessary collateral damage."

"Can't believe they though that they could take you with this trash," commented Takeo, crushing a pipe pistol underneath his power armored boot.

"You and me both," muttered Lucas as they continued down towards the repository in the library.

They thudded down the hall with heavy, thundering steps, scanning with both their weapons and sensors for any threats. Despite the technology given to them, old habits died too hard to rely solely on the sensors onboard their suits. Such habits allowed Lucas to avoid a Gauss round.

It was a hole in the wall that tipped him off. Too, out of place for a lack of a better way to put it to be natural. The wall not rotted enough for it to have formed naturally. Something his suit didn't consider a threat. It was a firing slit.

"Down!" yelled Lucas, throwing himself to the side as a Gauss round passed through where he had been standing only moments before. Takeo moved in the opposite direction, firing a burst of plasma bolts into the wall, turning the stone to slag as they melted their way through, but a second gauss round hit him in the seal between his shoulder and arm. The power armor itself the only reason that he didn't lose his arm entirely when it struck him. A third shot punching through the wall by Takeo's head and through a dozen more rooms after.

The barrels on Lucas' minigun sped up and he crushed down the firing studs, obliterating the wall that the shots had come from and raking the stream of bullets left to right. Putting 400 rounds into the room before using his power armor as a battering ram and crashing through the wall itself, eyes glowing a hellish yellow.

A wounded Brotherhood knight in T-45d power armor stood with a now broken gauss rifle mere feet from Lucas. At point blank range, the minigun turned what was left of the knight to paste.

"Takeo, status?"

"Finish them!" came the pained response.

"Roger," was all Lucas said and pushed further into the repository, seeing a couple of unfortunate souls who had been caught by his barrage of 5mm rounds. A pair of Brotherhood members in robes with a few more orifices as well as some of their hired help who had been unlucky enough to catch some of the bullet spray. One, almost perfectly intact save for the single hole in her head.

There was a scuff of a boot on the tile floor and Lucas turned his minigun towards a row of filing cabinets.

"Come out into the open with your on your head! Throw any weapons you have into the center of the room and don't make any sudden movements or I will open fire."

"O-okay," came the timid response and a laser pistol bounced and clattered off of the tiled floor. A moment later, a girl who was at most 20 came into view, hands firmly on her head, Brotherhood robes swaying as she walked. Bottom lip trembling as she looked at Lucas, eyes fearful.

"I'm not resisting. I'm not. Just...just tell me what you want me to do. I don't want to die," said the scribe, voice cracking as she did so.

She looked so damned much like Cassidy had. Too damned much and she was little more than a kid, though Lucas doubted that he was anymore than seven years older than she was. Lucas suddenly felt very much like the monsters he had fought several lifetimes ago. He had fought the Communists in Alaska because of this very thing. Because they executed those who surrendered. Because they killed those who they didn't need to, who were too young to have to die. They acted like machines, merely following orders, no matter how grisly those orders were.

The others had been legitimate threats. Trained all their lives to fight and armed with the best weapons around, rivaling even what the Enclave carried in some cases. This girl though, was none of that.

"If you want to live you'll do exactly as I say," said Lucas, but more quietly so that his voice wouldn't carry.

"Sure. Sure, whatever you want."

"Move over by the dead merc in the leather armor. Slowly."

"Okay. I-I'm going."

"Good. Not take her armor off."

"What?" asked the scribe confused.

"Take her armor off and put it on, then put your holotag and robes on her. Do it now."

The young woman looked as if she was about to protest, but the minigun trained on her quelled any objections about stripping down in front of a stranger. So she set about the grisly task of stripping the corpse of its clothing and putting her own on it. The two having been of similar size so the change in apparel didn't look too outlandish. Not that many clothes were tailor made now.

"Back away from the body," said Lucas and the brotherhood scribe did, now dressed in tanned and hardened leathers.

She cringed and covered her ears as Lucas raked the dead body with 5mm rounds, tearing it to pieces and making it unrecognizable save for the remains of the robes.

"If you want to live you were never part of the brotherhood. You know nothing of them other than they paid you to help look for holotapes and intact books. When you are questioned, you don't know how to read or how to write, understand? Are you a good shot?"

The girl gave a quick and stunned nod.

"Good. You were this mercenary, nothing more."

Lucas felt a hard pit forming in his stomach at what he had just done. Afraid that he would be found to be disobeying orders, but at the same tame he felt peace in his soul. He had chosen to spare a life instead of end one needlessly.

The girl though scared, did exactly as Lucas had instructed her. His superiors never knowing the difference. The only problem being that she didn't know exactly how to survive on her own, which Lucas didn't realize at the time, but quickly became his problem.

AN: I always wanted a viewpoint Enclave story and while not entirely 'nice' per say, they will be much more pragmatic with lessons learned. Be sure to leave a review and tell me what you think and thank you as always for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Xavier Brown finished buttoning the cuffs on his suit jacket, running a hand over the front of the garment as if smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. Satisfied, he pushed a lapel pin through the collar of his jacket, a large E surrounded by stars and examined himself in the full length mirror that he kept in his room. He took his fedora hat from a patiently waiting Mr. Handy robot before striding out of his room.

He headed into the depths of Vault Prime, his robot attendant following hot on his heels as he breezed through security checkpoints without so much as a voice of challenge, merely holding up his security pass to the imposing power armored guards and their robot enforcers as he sauntered by.

The ride in the elevator was a short one when he got to it, the doors opening with a pleasant chime and depositing him onto a catwalk with high guardrails that allowed Xavier to look down on the production lines and smelters of Vault Prime. Looking at it gave him displeasure.

Even after all of this time they were only running at twenty percent capacity, though it was a light 20 percent being perfectly honest. Not for lack of workers or functioning machinery, but rather lack of raw materials. They were rationing what they built, debating its usefulness weighed against its cost before they constructed it, despite the fact that they had designs now for technology that was more advanced than what they had possessed before the war. Weapons, building materials, vehicles, and electronics that would see them emerge as the indisputable power in this post Armageddon world. They had the future center of economic might in this new world and the heart of all that ambition was within their grasp. Yet despite that ,the machinery so carefully constructed, the robot workforce so obediently awaiting orders, was still silent. This situation was unacceptable to Xavier. To see assembly lines sitting still, to see smelting vats empty and not glowing with molten metal rankled him more than anything else in life. In fact, it made him physically angry to see it. The current situation was why they had woken him up.

Xavier Brown was an industrialist, but more than that he was a successful industrialist. In a span of six months when he had been 22 years old he had taken Detroit's decrepit auto manufacturing sector and turned it back into the hub of production that it had been in decades past. Six months from China's declaration of war and mile long assembly lines were churning out trucks, tanks, and APCs for the United States Military at industrial scale. After that he had gone to Pittsburgh and turned its civilian scale steel industry into a powerhouse of metal production. Wherever Xavier went he turned any business he touched into a supercharged workhorse of industry. That was one of the reasons that he had been woken up, so to speak.

Xavier's dress shoes clacked off of the metal flooring as he entered into the 'Brain' of the Factory. The doors opened with a soft whoosh and the interior of the room was a sterile while, lined with server banks and chalk boards as men and women in white lab coats discussed various topics from robotics to food production. If Xavier were to keep going and enter a room at the top of the Brain he would enter a control tower like room where engineers monitored the condition of the Factory in totality.

"Doctor Jeong, could I trouble you for a moment of your time?"

A woman with distinct Korean features and graying hair glanced up from the terminal she had been typing purposefully at, locking the terminal, before rising and greeting Xavier with a handshake.

"Mr. Brown, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your R91 variant that you've been working on."

"Working on? We had a working prototype before the bombs fell ready to go into mass production. Dr. Bjorn and I had the Wanda perfected."

"Excellent," beamed Xavier. "Then I would like to talk with you and Dr. Bjorn about the Wanda variant."

"I'm...afraid that that's not possible," said Dr. Jeong, face twisting ever so slightly into something like grief. "Dr. Bjorn was taking the proposal to Washington when the bombs fell. He...never made it to Prime."

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

"Everyone should be sorry for the loss. Few people knew as much about ballistics as Dr. Bjorn did."

"I see. The designs though, you still have them correct?"

"Of course I do," said Jeong, sounding indignant at the mere suggestion that the culmination of her and Bjorn's work would be lost to something as inconsequential as nuclear war.

"Would you mind if we were to go over them together?"

"Might as well, not like what I'm working on right now is of much consequence. Even if I were to get it working, it's not like we'd be allowed to get a production run going. This way," gestured Jeong, leading Xavier back to her terminal. A few quick keystrokes and Xavier was looking at the new Wanda rifle.

"So as you know, Wanda was the name given to the R91a4 project, though in reality the only resemblance to the original R91 is its outward appearance. It's a completely different rifle otherwise. We completely redid the interior, gutted it really. The most significant improvement was the gas system, it's a revolutionary development if I do say so myself. 90% more efficient propellant delivery than all of our previous gas operated ballistic weapons. Add to that Dr. Bjorn's new rifling pattern, recoil compensation system, and you're looking at an overall 50% increase in both muzzle velocity and stopping power for standard ammunition. The hard part was keeping the rifle as maintenance friendly and easy to produce as the original, but we managed within expected tolerances."

"So what you're telling me is that you turned a 5.56 into a 7.62 round without the bulk and recoil?"

"What Bjorn and I did was revolutionize firearms. I could apply these improvements to any ballistic weapon given enough time and give it a similar upgrade to performance."

"Very good, start production immediately then."

"Mr. Brown, with all due respect were you not listening earlier when I said how hard it is to get approval?"

"I was, but I'm also the man who now has authority to approve new projects. Energy weapons are nice, but the maintenance requirements are horrendous and their susceptibility to the elements makes their use limited at best for extended operations. Not to mention how the cold drains energy packs hellishly fast. I want something simple, durable, and effective to manufacture to replace our fallback weapons. I want the Wanda."

"Really? But I mean we already have large stores of R91s in the armory, why push my project to the front? Don't get me wrong I'm happy that it's finally seeing the light of day, but even I have to say that it seems...inefficient," said Jeong after a pause, seemingly unwilling to call her own project wasteful.

"I have plans for our current stock of ballistic weapons," said Xavier with a smirk. "Send me a list of what you need and you'll get it. Don't be afraid to ask for too much, if you need it, you'll get it."

"I think I'm going to like working with you," said Dr. Jeong shaking Xavier's hand.

"Most people do."

xxx

"So did the tribals give you guys any trouble on your patrol?"

"Nah man, no trouble."

"One tried to stab you Mark."

"Through Advanced MK IH heavy power armor Joe. I mean they thought that they ambushed us, dropping rocks on us and coming out hooting and hollering at us. I don't know what they thought that we were, but they sure came at us hard. They thought that they were surprising us, but even without the suit I saw them moving, but we didn't take a defensive posture. I mean if we just had our regular plate carriers and rifles we sure as hell would have, but with our Advanced MK IH suits," trailed off Mark shrugging his shoulders as if to say, 'there was no point.'

"What happened to the tribals?" asked Lucas curiously, savoring the fresh meat that they were finally eating instead of food from the vault-tec designed dispensers. Everyone at the table dressed much the same way with a black t-shirt and green fatigue pants. Each of them had come a different, yet elite unit from the US military. Green Berets, Marine Force Recon, and Rangers just to name a few.

The mess hall was noisy, raucous even as they sought to balance out the depressing vistas that they now viewed on a nearly daily basis. Laughter erupting loudly at any given moment and the newly awakened soldiers exchanging fresh war stories and advice for those for those yet to step outside of the walls of Inheritance. Many of the newly woken appearing pale and tired as a result of their long cryo sleep. The mess hall a mix of those having supper and ending their shift, and those like Lucas having breakfast before heading out on night patrol.

"The tribals? Dead," said Mark simply, scratching at his cauliflower ear, a result of his fondness for wrestling. "They tried to kill us, so we killed them, simple as that. One of them broke a spear against my chest plate. I couldn't believe a guy was running at a dude in power armor so I just watched him charge at me. Sergeant Gilbert from boot would have chewed my ass out for that, but it was too weird I had to see if he really thought he could stab me. The look on his face was priceless though, an 'oh shit' look if I've ever seen one. Rocks bounced off of us, 5mm rounds ripped through them, good times."

"What were they wearing?" asked Lucas.

"Wearing? Dude they were hardly wearing anything. Bingo Bango Bongo tribals man."

"Were they scraps of business clothing or was it worked leather?" pried Lucas.

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't Sunday best. Yeah, it was leather, real crude. They had tattoos too, on their arms."

"Those sound like the Etched Tribe. They write the history of their tribe by carving it into the mountains of the Black Hills and marking their history on their skin in ink."

"Well that skin is spread out over half of South Dakota now," laughed Mark.

"The Etched are herdsman Mark, they're nonviolent unless it's to protect themselves. They tend to their brahmin herds and have run ins with super mutants killing their people and eating their brahmin. Those roles aren't mutually exclusive either. They probably thought that your patrol were super mutants."

"Well shit luck for them I guess."

"Shit luck for running into you maybe," said Lucas distastefully.

"Oh muffin," mocked Mark.

"Do you know what makes a Green Beret different from an Army Devastator Mark? They train Green Berets to talk to people so that the strangers of today become the friends of tomorrow. We're a force multiplier, because we make people respect us and by extension the army and government. You just murdered a bunch of tribesman who couldn't hurt you if they tried. Stabbing a spear at a man in power armor is like throwing rocks at a tank. It was a misunderstanding that has created a blood feud between the Enclave and the Etched. You more than likely made an enemy of one of the tribes that should have been one of the easiest to convince to work with us. All you would have had to do was just calmly ask them to stop and they would have. Now we're likely never get anything from them."

"What the fuck are backwards tribals going to give us?"

"For one, tribals gave us that chicken that you're eating."

"What?!" blurted out Mark, pushing his tray away in disgust.

"Don't worry, the eggheads tested it before they fed it to us. No mutation or rads in it even, the Faceless Tribe takes great pride in their poultry. They even gave us some to be good neighbors. So I hope you like chicken Mark, because we're not going to be having steak anytime soon. Have a good night," said Lucas taking his empty tray and leaving.

In the armory afterwards Lucas suddenly felt a lot more tired than his gray eyes revealed, but only for a moment before the bug-eyed helmet hid his face from view. Video feeds coming to life and data scrolling across the edge of his vision. As the suit came to life he tested the gyros, doing a few basic movements and testing the dexterity of the fingers, following a few of the instructions of the techs to make sure that everything was operating as it should be. With a final seal of approval Lucas secured the minigun to his back against the pack of ammo and thudded his way out of the armory.

The sun was setting, bathing the land in both golden light and long shadows as the shadows of the mountains extended ever further outwards like greedy hands seeking to grasp all the world in their grip. The land shining as if it was glowing molten where the light fell on the pools of standing water from the rain shower the other day. Lucas headed through the main gate with a trio of other scouts, each of them heading a different way, thudding in a different direction. Lucas himself heading towards where he always stopped before heading out further on patrol.

It was a crude little shack within sight of the walls of Inheritance. Where the materials had come from he could only guess that it was from one of the various bombed out towns in the vicinity. The shack wasn't the only one of its kind and more were popping up every day. Raiders, super mutants, tribals, and slavers all gave Inheritance a very wide berth. The power armored soldiers of the Enclave had turned the area around Vault Prime into one of the safest places in the Continental United States and many people were taking advantage of that. Trading the possibility of making good money as a prospector scavenging ruins or a river guard at Miracle Pier for one thing that they had never had before. Safety.

Those who lived within sight of the walls of Inheritance could sleep easy at night, safe even from the deadly animals and abominations that prowled the wastelands of America, so long as they didn't mind intermittent and violent bursts of gunfire from one of the various patrols. Though the valley that Vault Prime inhabited was hardly a wasteland.

The Enclave leadership weren't entirely sure as to how they wanted to proceed with the squatters so while they weren't outright hostile to them they also weren't lending them a helping hand. Leaving them to their own devices instead. For the most part Lucas did as well, save for one shack.

He opened the scrap door, stooping as he entered and the woman sitting cross legged on the floor of the shack looked up quickly, shoulders tensing, before visibly relaxing and going back to fixing whatever scrap of electronics that she had managed to find for the day. Nearly every available surface of the shack strewn with parts, junk, and surprisingly some quite operational mementos from before the war. That is save for one small corner of the shack that contained a sleeping bag sitting atop a cot. In fact if Lucas were to take another step inside the shop he'd likely crush several of whatever was littering the floor.

"Hey Lucas," said Sharon pleasantly enough, much more warmly than one would expect to a member of a group who had killed everyone she had ever loved or cared about. The brunette and former Brotherhood scribe removing screws with practiced ease. She was great with technology, but not so much with survival skills or catching her own food which is where their new routine had come from, though Lucas assumed that her casual acceptance of their relationship was a result of her not fully comprehending what had happened. A sort of self-defense mechanism. Or, possibly she was plotting some sort of revenge which also made him wary of her cheery demeanor towards him.

Lucas set a small lunchbox on the ground by Sharon, servos whirring quietly as he did so and the young woman immediately opened it and began eating the food within. Not even bothering to clean her hands of grease or oil as she did so, so enraptured was she in her work. Taking out a bottle of purified water and taking a sip one handed, still taking out screws all the while. Setting it down, she popped the cover off of whatever it was she was working on and took out a single small electronic component. She then picked up the pip-boy missing its top casing and taking a pair of tweezers carefully inserted the electronic component, before screwing the casing back on. With a robotic beep the pip-boy came to life and Sharon let out a very pleased hum.

"Here you go, a brand new to you pip-boy 3000 MKIV!" said Sharon happily, holding out the pip-boy towards Lucas, the Enclave soldier standing impassive.

"Thank you, but I will have to refuse," said Lucas.

"What? Why? There's nothing wrong with it," said Sharon sounding offended. "It works just fine, I even cleaned the thing. Well, I did clean it," said Sharon with an embarrassed chuckle when she noticed that she was holding the pip-boy with greasy fingers.

"All the same I think that I'll take a pass on it."

"But I worked hard on it!" whined Sharon. "Do you know hard it was to make General Dynamic parts work in RobCo tech? It's really not easy to do. Stupid prewar tech company rivalry," muttered the girl bitterly.

"I said no," said Lucas sternly.

"You think I did something to it, don't you? Well I didn't, it works just fine."

"I'm not allowed to bring salvage back inside the walls."

"Yes you are, I see the others do it all the time. You just think-oh, I get it. You don't have to worry about me Lucas, I'm not one for trying to get revenge. I'm much too selfish for that."

Lucas must have remained silent for too long, unsure of how to respond at the girls' words because of how morose they sounded. As it turned out he didn't need to, Sharon went on to explain further.

"The truth of the matter is, is that if you die, I'll die, and I don't want to die," said Sharon quietly. "I have no idea how to hunt or to fish and the guy I paid to build this shack for me robbed me of everything but the clothes on my back the next day. I...I was scared that he was going to take more than my money when he held that gun to my head. Thanks for getting my stuff back by the way," added Sharon quickly, as if eager to change the subject and put the unpleasant experience behind her.

"It isn't something that you have to thank me for Sharon."

"Heh. You know you're probably one of the only people in the wasteland that would say something like that. Everyone wants something out here. I'd be lying if I said I didn't hold a grudge against the Enclave or you and that I don't entertain the thought of getting revenge, but I also know that you weren't supposed to let me live and you did, so I'm grateful for that. I just wanted to give you something for looking out for me. And, I don't know," huffed Sharon trailing off.

"The Brotherhood and Enclave are at war and it's not like the Brotherhood are angels. You won battles out East, we won battles in South Dakota."

"I never said that they were!" said Sharon hotly. "But...they were still my friends, my family...and I miss them. If you don't want the pip-boy don't take it. I don't want to keep you from your patrol," muttered Sharon, tossing the pip-boy spitefully to the side and picking up another piece of electronic refuse to work on.

Lucas left the shack, turning his video feed back on, and continuing on his way. They only allowed one man patrols because of the heavy power armor that they wore and the fact that if anything did happen they could rush help to anyone who needed it very quickly.

Lucas went to the first place that he always did when he had to make his rounds, the farmstead that he had hinted at may be cannibals. It was sun had finally set when he finally made his way to the farm. It was dark and the occupants asleep. A pair of dogs were sleeping on the porch, but they would wake up quickly if anything or anyone approached. They had barked at Lucas the one night that he had strayed too close to the house, waking up the family. His memo had been approved and so now he was allowed to skirt the farmstead every night that he had a patrol, which was most nights. He took other people's night patrols which they were more than happy to give him.

It always made him feel better to check in on them, even if they didn't now that he was doing it, or that they had a power armored guardian angel looking out for them. When Lucas was satisfied that nothing was going to happen to them, he continued on his patrol.

xxx

"Hello up there!" called out a waving man wearing a well-worn baseball cap and clothes with far too many pockets. Voice amplified by an electric megaphone that still faintly read POLICE on the side in bold letters. The man staying surprisingly calm as turrets swiveled in their perches to track his movements and soldiers wearing advanced MK I and MK II power armor quickly lined the parapets on the walls, homing in on the man who was still a kilometer away.

He began walking up to the walls of Inheritance at an unhurried pace, keeping his hands well in view of those tracking his movements on the walls. Never altering his speed even as a squad of black power armored soldiers left the main gates.

"It's good to meet you, I'm Ryan of Ryan's Wreckage Caravan Company. I'd like to say that-"

"Keep your hands where we can see them sir," said the apparent leader of the power armored soldiers, holding a minigun at waist level.

"Of course, no problem my man, I'm doing exactly as you say. I don't want any trouble and as a show of good faith and despite these turbulent times that we find ourselves living in, I've come unarmed save for good intentions," said Ryan, gesturing to himself, but more importantly his lack of a blade or a gun.

"Lay face down on the ground hand interlocked behind your head," crackled the man in the black power armor over his suits speakers.

"Can do-oof!" grunted Ryan as an armored gauntlet grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled him to the ground.

Ryan hissed in pain as his ribs hit a rock sticking out of the ground, causing pain to lance through his chest in sharp waves, but he stopped himself from doing anything more than grunting. He'd been treated worse by other groups he had tried to trade with and he'd endure a lot if it meant that he got to trade with guys rich enough to walk around with this kind of hardware.

"What do you want?" grated the man in power armor through his helmet's speakers.

"I'm wondering if you guys would like to do any trading. That's what I do you know, I'm a caravan trader. Specifically I deal with salvage, but I do get my hands on other things from time to time. If you guys are looking for food, chems, or-"

"No," said the power armored man bluntly. "You are trespassing on US Government property and you will remove yourself or find yourself escorted forcibly off the premises. Further violations will be seen as a hostile act and-" the voice above Ryan stopped mid-sentence like someone was talking to him and glancing upwards the man had his helmeted head cocked to the side like he was listening to somebody speak to him.

"You have been granted permission to enter the walls of Inheritance. You will stay with us at all times and obey all instructions given to you by Enclave personnel. Any infractions of these instructions will be seen as a hostile act and dealt with accordingly. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," said Ryan, unable to stop himself from letting out a grin. He was hauled roughly to his feet and followed behind the black armored soldier, the others forming a box around him. When they reached the walls of Inheritance, a large metal gate retracted into the wall and revealed an entirely different world within.

There were actual houses inside the walls. Not the scrap shacks that many in the wasteland made, but actual houses made from uniform materials, with odd looking glass panels on the roof. They even had little yards of grass with small vegetable gardens in most. The ground around them was asphalt and concrete, like the stuff from before the war.

Ryan was startled as a pair of sentry bot robots trundled by, regarding him with their targeting sensors for a few moments, before continuing on. If things worked out well with these people, he was going to make a _lot_ of caps.

Ryan was led towards the rock face and realized that there were large doors in the side of the mountain. The kind on buildings from before the war that large trucks inside of them. Instead of heading further towards the mountain and no doubt bunker below, he was instead led off to the edge of the city and up a staircase to a rocky plateau that housed a firing range looking out over the valley.

A man was sitting on a lounge chair overlooking the valley with a Mr. Handy robot hovering beside him and a pair of black bug-eyed power armored guards standing nearby with some very big guns.

"Come on over," called the man gesturing to an empty lounge chair beside him.

Ryan looked at his 'guards' and when they made no motion to stop him he walked up to the man in a prewar suit and took a seat on the proffered lounge chair.

"Ryan, of Ryan's Wreckage Caravan Company," said Ryan holding out his hand to the man in the suit.

"Xavier Brown, head of manufacturing and resource procurement for the Enclave."

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir," said Ryan.

"Likewise. Now, you have a business proposition for me do you?"

"Yes, yes I do," said Ryan excitedly. "I trade in salvage. Scrap metal and electronics mostly, but I can get a hold of anything else that you guys might need too," continued Ryan quickly.

"That is useful, how large is you caravan company? How many people do you have in your employ?"

"Oh? Well, I've got about 3 pack brahmin, 4 guards, and about a half dozen prospectors who get goods for me."

"About, or exactly?"

"Exactly 3 brahmin, 4 guards, and 6 prospectors," clarified Ryan.

"Good. So if I wanted say scrap steel, copper, silicon, cordite, or the compounds to make cordite could you get me those in say 2 weeks?"

"Of course I could, I know a few people who deal in all of those. How much would you like of each?"

"Hm. Let's start off simply shall we? 30 tons of steel, 1000lbs of copper, enough compounds to make 400lbs of high quality cordite, and say… 12 tons of sand. We'll extract it ourselves."

"Uh, uhm, ah," stammered Ryan, mouth falling agape. "W-well, I don't think that I can get that amount to you in two weeks. I'd need to hire more prospectors, get more guards, and buy more pack brahmin. I mean, that's a lot of bulk and weight to move. It wouldn't be cheap either."

"We have money enough to pay, don't worry. What if you were to partner with the other caravan companies in the area?"

"The other companies? Well, I mean if we all worked together we could probably get it done in two weeks, but keeping raiders off of our backs would still be a problem. Not to mention tribals. You get that many"

"Consider the raiders a moot point. Let it be known that you're working for the Enclave and they'll leave you in peace. They've had to be taught that our interests and personnel are off limits, but they learned. For some it was a more painful process than others."

"That two weeks would be after everyone was working together though," warned Ryan. "And that's going to be the biggest challenge. Too much bad blood between all the caravan companies over the years."

"I would imagine, business does manage to create tension between competitors, but I have a solution for that," said Xavier gesturing with his hand and walking to one of the shooting benches. Ryan following to see what his possible new demanding client could be up to, or wanting to show him. It was then that he saw that a group of men had arrived, a couple of which were wearing combat armor, but the others in the same black power armor and carrying metal cases.

"This is the R91 assault rifle, standard issue during the Great War. Fully automatic with select fire capability it fires a 5.56mm round with a muzzle velocity of 3600 feet per minute and effective range of 700 meters for the average rifleman. Incredibly easy to control on automatic fire and easy to maintain," said Xavier holding up the most pristine rifle that Ryan had ever seen, before putting it on the bench.

"Next is the Colt 6520 10mm pistol. Sturdy, simple, reliable, and with enough stopping power to put a man, or moderate sized animal down quickly," continued Xavier, racking the slide of the pistol, before setting it down next to the rifle.

"For long range engagements you may prefer something like the DKS-501 sniper rifle. Chambered in .308 caliber, its effective range of 1500 meters gives you a distinct range advantage over your adversaries. It carries a 5 round detachable magazine and the rifle is semiautomatic. It will also come with the scope you see attached. Do I have your attention?"

"Yes, yes you do," said Ryan gawking over the pristine prewar weapons on the table.

"Good. Next is a little more basic, the Remington 870 shotgun. Eight round tubular magazine, pump action 12 gauge, enough said," said Xavier racking the shotgun and putting it on the table.

"Next is a favorite of mine, the H&K MP9 10mm submachinegun. Accurate, controllable, fast rate of fire. Great protection without the bulk of the larger weapons. Then there's the bullets," said Xavier and the men in combat armor behind him pulled ammo boxes out of the large crates and opened them to reveal the shiny brass cartridges within, factory made and never having been reloaded. Thousands upon thousands of rounds.

"In effect I would like to establish a barter system with you Ryan. You bring us raw materials with your cohorts and we give you guns, ammo, clothes, boots, and purified water in exchange. If that is unacceptable we also have gold," said Xavier, opening another crate and revealing the gold bars within. The glow from the precious metals illuminating Ryan's greed.

"Three weeks," said Ryan. "I need a week to get everyone together and let them know what you want. Three weeks and I'll have everything that you want."

"Excellent. We have a deal then," said Xavier and shook Ryan's hand. "Oh, and proof for those you try to convince," said Xavier, taking a 20 round box of .308 shells and handing it to Ryan. Consider this an investment."

"Yes Mr. Brown. I'll see you in three weeks."

"There's no rush to get going. Sit, have a drink, let's talk about the state of business out in the wasteland. Now, water, whiskey, or Nuka Cola?"

xxx

The vertibird touched down gently, rotors kicking up dust as they continuously adjusted themselves until the craft was fully on the ground. The side doors slid open, allowing two power armored soldiers armed with gatling guns to exit, quickly followed by another figure in T-51B power armor with 3 stars etched on the shoulder pauldron escorted by another pair of T-51B armored soldiers.

The quartet of power armored soldiers formed a rough diamond around the one with the stars on his shoulder, protecting their General as they headed to the base camp set next to a truck stop. The rusting hulls of 200 year old transport trucks sitting with their trailers still attached, cargo long since looted or else rotted beyond salvage. In most cases, beyond being identifiable.

Sentry bots trundled around the nearly deteriorated asphalt parking lot, while robotic turrets slowly turned back and forth in their stands at the periphery of the rest stop, tracking for potential targets.

"Sir," said an enclave captain, dressed in MK II power armor and coming to attention. One of the descendant Enclave, rather than one who had gone to sleep before the war. One of Colonel Autumn's men as it were.

"At ease Captain. Is everything ready?"

"Yes sir. The cordon is secure and we're ready to enter. The vault is locked up tight, but we've still got the master override codes from Vault-Tec. Are you sure that you want to be the one to go in General?"

"Yes I'm sure. Also, only men in T-51B will be entering the vault. The Advanced series is potent, but a little too intimidating for diplomatic contact. Especially for those who only have recollection, or in this case I suppose, information as to the prewar equipment of the United States Military."

"Understood sir," was all the Captain said and Winters left it at that. If he suspected that Winters didn't quite trust him or his men he wouldn't be entirely wrong. By limiting it to only men wearing T-51B it meant that only Winter's men would be accompanying him into the vault.

Enclave technicians wearing full body suits were crowding around terminals inside what had been the dining area of the truck stop and they'd already succeeded in opening the hidden trap door leading to the vault. Their faces were hidden by the green class helmets that covered their heads, air tubes snaking their way in, but their IFF tags made any relevant information appear in Winter's HUD including names and ranks.

One stood out from the others with ramrod straight bearing and an air of almost deference that the technicians around him afforded to him.

"Doctor Vogt, is everything ready?"

"Yes General, the terminal is all set up and ready down at the access tunnel. Simply run the program and the vault door will open."

The scientist paused for a second, as if considering whether or not he should say something, like he was wondering if it would be rude to do so.

"General. You...are aware of the purpose of many of these vaults are you not? Some of them I can confidently say that they will be nothing but beneficial. Others...we have lost the records of."

"Purpose? Doctor I understand that they are under the umbrella of Project Safehouse and each one was meant to serve a specific role once they had reopened. Vault 124 is full of heavy equipment operators, engineers, and miners. This one is full of Doctors of all kinds. The influx of medical personnel will be a welcome addition."

"Yes, but General, surely you know the purpose of many of the vaults? Without full records of this vault I'm afraid I can't guarantee what you'll find down there. It would be best if you yourself didn't go down below."

"Doctor. What aren't you telling me?" said Winter lowly.

"General, many vaults were used as...testbeds for Vault Prime. Long running sociological experiments meant to help when Vault Prime was signaled to reactivate. Data on how people would react under intense stress and when exposed to a variety of possible scenarios that could be encountered if we were to recolonize Earth or else go into space seeking another planet. Data that has proven invaluable, but, has also had unfortunate results for the vaults involved."

"Doctor. Are you telling me that Project Safehouse was a giant science experiment and the people inside were nothing more than lab rats?" asked Winter, his voice deathly quiet, even projected through his helmet speakers. Taking heavy thudding steps until he was towering over Vogt.

"Their survival was never a priority General. Only the data was important, the people were irrelevant in the larger scheme of things."

"So you were aware of this from the start?"

"General I was contracted to help design several of the experiments. Mine were much more benign than many of those thought of by my colleagues. One of my assistants will be accompanying you into the vault to collect any relevant data from the Overseers terminal, though I again must protest you personally going into the vault itself."

"I see. Your concern is most appreciated Doctor. Well I'm sure that you're most interested in the results of your work aren't you Doctor Vogt? First Sergeant Williams, the good Doctor is to accompany us into the vault."

"Understood General," grated one of the power armored soldiers taking up position beside the Enclave scientist.

"General Winter, you can't be quite serious!" protested Vogt, but finding his means of escape blocked by the power armored soldier who was keeping a firm grip on his shoulder.

"This way Doctor," said the First Sergeant, prodding the scientist to follow them down through the large rap doors, power armored boots thudding off of the metal steps.

There was a full section of power armored soldiers in T-51B armor equipped with various heavy weapons waiting for Winter's arrival, as well as another section equipped with the MK I and MK II advanced armor. In time they would all be wearing an Advanced Power Armor model, but for now they were still using a mix of all of them.

Aside from human soldiery there was a small coterie of combat robots with them as well. A pair of sentry bots, a trio of eyebots and even a specialized Mr. Gutsy.

"Doctor Vogt, I didn't expect to see you down here. Is there something else that you wanted me to look for in the vault?" asked another Encalve scientist dressed the same as Vogt, her face hidden by the orange glass of her helmet.

"No. It appears that I will also be entering the vault," answered Vogt bitterly.

"Oh. Would you like to be issued a personal weapon Doctor?"

"If half a platoon of soldiers in power armor can't keep the situation in hand an untrained civilian with a sidearm will make little difference."

"Of course Doctor," said the assistant, sounding like she had just been chastised for saying something utterly ridiculous.

"Major Loche, are you and your men ready to breach?"

"Yes sir, just give the word," said Loche, his voice deep and gravelly, the trait of a long time smoker, or in his case, too close of an acquaintance with a Commie in a stealth suit with a very sharp piece of metal.

"Good. You and your men in the Advanced series will provide perimeter security, only those in T-51B will be entering with us."

"Understood sir," said Loche with only the briefest of pauses at the odd request. In fact, much about this was odd.

Winter would be the first to admit that a general on the front line was a dangerously foolhardy decision, but he believed that the benefits outweighed the risks. First and foremost he had to establish himself amongst the Enclave as a decisive leader to solidify his hold on the scattered groups of Enclave holed up across the Continental United States and secondly any negotiations that needed to take place he wanted handled, or at least started immediately. After all, he was in charge of the entirety of Vault Prime, or at least he was until they woke up more of the business and civil leaders.

"Open it up," said Winter calmly.

"Yes sir," said Major Loche, and nodded his bug-eyed helm towards one of the technicians standing at the terminal that was linked to the control panel to the vault. The technician then turned to their terminal and input a password with a quick stroke of keys.

With a hiss, two hundred year old hydraulics and pneumatics began to activate. Pistons and locks retracting, shaking off and scraping off rust as they moved for the first time since they had locked in place all those years ago. A clang of metal on metal sounded on the other side of the massive vault door with a 124 printed boldly across its face.

With a monstrously loud screech of metal on metal that reverberated down the access tunnel, vibrating the ground underneath their feet and throwing off rivers of sparks, the thick blast door was retracted back into the depths of the vault and rolled off to the side. As it settled into its prepared rest, the pair of sentry bots and trio of eyebots entered the vault.

Despite the great length of time that had passed, the initial control room looked very well maintained, or at least like it hadn't sat dormant for the two centuries since the door had sealed. It was clean, and slowly the lights powered on bathing the room in sterile white light. One of the eyebots flew to the door controls as a full squad of T51B armored soldiers rushed into the access room immediately behind the sentry bots.

The eyebot whirred and beeped as it interacted with the door controls, as if frustrated with the complexity of what should have been a simple task.

"Susan, you had told me that you updated the eyebots with MK V decryption protocols did you not?" said Doctor Vogt sounding annoyed.

"Doctor, I did just like you said, I even fine tuned it to be MK VC quality decryption protocols," defended Susan, the technician sounding almost like she feared displeasing Vogt more than anything that they could possibly find in the vault.

With a successful _boop_ the light above the thick steel door turned from red to green and swung inwards. A skeleton in long soiled riot armor falling in after it, a hole in the back of its armored vest and the visor on its helmet spider-webbed with cracks. The slide of its 10mm pistol having locked to the rear empty decades ago.

"Well this looks promising," opined Vogt dryly while his assistant let out a startled squeal of terror. "Susan, monitor our progress from outside the vault will you?"

"I-It's fine Doctor, I-"

"I wasn't asking Susan, I was telling you. Go and monitor our progress from outside," said Vogt calmly but firmly.

"Yes Doctor," said Susan after a moment's hesitation, leaving back through the massive door as the eyebots flew deeper into the vault, scanning and recording everything as they went. Vogt only just managing to drag the corpse out of the way in time to save it from being crushed by the trundling wheels of the sentrybots as they forged their way further into the vault to provide security.

"Are you still sure you wish to personally investigate the vault General?" asked Vogt wryly as he rifled through the pockets of the long dead corpse, the Enclave soldiers in T51B armor forming a layered defensive cordon around them, by advancing further into the vault, weapons tracking for any movement.

"Of course, and you are still to accompany me Doctor."

"I wouldn't expect anything less General Winter, but I just hope your power armor can withstand piercing attacks better than this unfortunate soul's riot gear could. One quick thrust tore through the back trauma plate, severed the spine, and judging as to the angle of entry ruptured the heart. Looks almost like animal claws did this too."

Instead of answering Winter pulled a laser rifle from its mounting on his back and disengaged the safety with a click, the weapon powering up with a whirr of power.

"Very well, in to the realms of Hades we proceed then, I just hope that we fare better than security officer Martin."

"Major Loche, change of plans," said Winter, opening up a private comm frequency after Vogt had followed several of his men into the vault.

"Yes sir?" answered the raspy voice of the Enclave officer.

"Mission is changed to sweep and clear. Your men are to follow us in and additional security is to be posted at the entrance to the vault."

"Yes sir, I'll see that it's done," said Loche and black power armored men followed Winter and his team into the vault, while more came down from above, fixing their heavy weapons onto the entrance of the vault.

The interior of the vault was for lack of a better term, desolate. Many of the lights had burned out, or else flickered intermittently at seemingly random intervals. They seemed to be motion activated for the most part and a few would sluggishly flicker to life as they passed by or else entered a new area of the vault. Skeletons were found somewhat routinely, in positions of either cowering in terror or else having attempted and then failed to run for their very lives. As to what exactly they had been running from was as of yet very unclear.

In many places the only light they had was from the headlamps mounted on their helmets as the fixtures which had once provided light now sat dark and empty or else shattered. Bright beams of light stabbing into the depths of the vault, illuminating abandoned corridors and not so empty living quarters. Some of the heavy metal doors having been locked from the inside, their occupants too terrified to leave, but as to what had terrified them so, they weren't sure. The people had actually starved to death inside of their living quarters rather than risk leaving. This had been made quite apparent by the log entries in their private terminals that were still drawing power from the Vault reactor.

The bodies had been left where they had fallen, their flesh rotting and liquefying, staining the metal around them forever more and leaving what remained of their clothes stiff and foul clinging to the bones that remained, all bearing the number 124 on the back. Save for some that had on what had once been white lab coats, now every color but white.

"Well look at that, just another message from one of the dead residents saying how they love their family and that they're sorry for all the mean things they said to them. Oh hello," continued Vogt, tapping rapidly at the terminal, Winter standing over his shoulder.

"What is it?" asked Winter.

"This entry here. It has reference to what 124 was working towards when it was still operational. Project Athena. Doctor Chu here says that it was supposed to be the pinnacle of all their research here."

"And what would that pinnacle be Doctor?"

"Immortality. If what I'm reading is correct, it isn't the monkey's paw immortality that we were playing at before the war. No. No this is something more and it was directed by Doctor...Doctor Jeremiah Simpson."

"Did you know him?"

"Yes, I studied under him. Man was a genius, rivaling those at Big Mountain. When it came to genetic research and development he was unequaled. He was a master of biology in all of its forms, although I remember vaguely a warning from him about the proposition for the Vault 22 research priority. Something about the flora being too unstable to work with."

"So he pushed too far and his own creations turned on him and the doctors here then?"

"No!" snapped Vogt with uncharacteristic vehemence. "Doctor Simpson was much too careful for that to happen. He took lab procedures and proper safeguards with the utmost seriousness. He would never attempt anything without multiple failsafe protocols and kill switches in place."

"If he was so cautious than how did this happen Doctor? Right now I'm looking at a dead Vault and no clear answers where I had expected a horde of trained medical personnel to bring back with me."

"I'm working on it," said Vogt Irritably, typing rapidly. "Unless we want to lose another eyebot to encryption protection protocols, we're going to need the passwords, not brute force hacking," said Vogt, gesturing to the burnt out eyebot that they had tried to use to open the encrypted files. The defensive measures within the mainframe were truly formidable indeed.

There's reference here to another project. Chimera, but most of these files are protected with access allowed to only the Overseer, Simpson, and…Singh."

"What's the problem Vogt?" asked Winter, unable to read the Doctor's expression through the orange glass helmet that covered his face.

"Singh was like Simpson, but at the same time different. He was brilliant, but it was a terrible brilliance. He was part of the FEV team at Mariposa during the war before he abandoned it, calling it a dead end. He was brilliant, but also completely reckless. He would push and push, regardless of the consequences of doing so. Disregard any warnings, any limits so long as he could get the results that he wanted."

"So you say then that it was Singh who caused this catastrophe?"

"More than likely, but we won't know for sure until we get to the Overseer's office."

"Contact. Unknown hostile, humanoid, pursuing," came Major Loche's voice over the radio.

"Well, it seems that we're going to find what the cause of all of this is," said Vogt.

Xxx

Lucas thundered after the figure, his new MK II power armor tracking her movements. It was the heavier variant that the Enclave had used before moving out West to Washington and despite the bug-eyed appearance, was still the best armor that they had. Yet it didn't seem fast enough to catch the whoever it was that he was pursuing.

15mph showed at the top left hand corner of his HUD, inching its way up to 20 as he gave chase, but then the figure would duck down a side hallway, and Lucas would lose precious speed readjusting so that he could follow. A pair of eyebots raced ahead of him, tracking his prey for him while the rest of his squad thundered after him.

What he wasn't entirely prepared for, was when he saw the one he was chasing run _back_ towards him, clutching at a bleeding arm.

The figure was dressed in Vault security riot armor, complete with mirrored visor and standard issue 10mm pistol that was issued to all vaults.

"Halt!" commanded Lucas barrels on his minigun beginning to rotate as he planted his foot, arresting his movement with a thunderclap of hardened ceramic infused alloys on metal flooring. He was genuinely surprised when the figure did slow, holding up both hands, even the injured one, casting quick glances over its shoulder, as if expecting something to come up behind it.

"Stay right where you are," warned Lucas as the figure tried to get around behind him. From the body shape and size it looked like it was either a youth or a woman.

"I can't stay here, they're right behind me," said the now revealed woman in riot armor.

Lucas' suit beeped as the sensors warned him of new targets and he cast his gaze to the far end of a T hallway where several people dressed in vault jumpsuits now stood. Bathed in harsh white light from the lights on Lucas' helmet. Just standing there, looking impassive. The rest of Lucas' squad finally caught up to him, thudding into position around him, while a couple trained their weapons behind them, watching for threats from the rear.

"Shoot them," urged the woman gesturing with a bloody hand towards the group of vault dwellers.

"You saw how fast she was running, she's Doctor Simpson's pet monster. Kill her now before she turns on you!"

"No! They're Dr. Singh's bioweapons, don't trust them!" implored the woman. "They're hiding themselves!"

"Sir, what do we do?" asked Lucas on the private radio channel.

"So you were hunting her down then were you?" asked Major Loche, his raspy voice amplified by the speakers in his helmet.

"Yes," said the speaker for the vault dwellers, a black man who looked like he was in his 30s. "We're finally going to pay her back for everything that she's done to us."

"I see," said Major Loche, looking first at the woman in riot gear with a bleeding arm, before back at the group of vault dwellers, illuminated by the headlamps of the power armored soldiers.

"They're pupils aren't contracting in the light," said Major Loche over their private communication channel, and zooming in with the camera in his helmet he saw that it was true. If anything their pupils were far too large.

"How long has she been causing you trouble?" asked Loche conversationally to the vault dwellers.

Lucas switched to thermal and had to stare for a few moments to believe what he was seeing. The heat pattern was all wrong, alien almost and the head of the vault dwellers was the same temperature as the air around them which made no sense at all. Looking at the girl in riot armor, he saw standard, and normal heat signatures radiating off of her.

"Heat signatures are all wrong sir," said Lucas.

"Bio-electric reading is fucked up too," added William on their private channel.

"A long time, but we're finally putting an end to her reign of terror," answered the vault dweller to Major Loche. "Finally clipped her too," said the man, pointing to the bleeding woman in riot armor."

"It looks like you did," admitted Loche.

"They're tricking you! Don't listen, please, believe me! They keep doing this to people!" pleaded the woman, almost as if begging for the Enclave soldiers to understand.

"Only thing I don't get, is why you would chase after someone with a gun when you don't have one," said Loche, and the vault dwellers stiffened ever so slightly.

"Light them the fuck up," growled Loche into the private comm channel and Lucas happily oblidged.

The barrels of his mingun spun up to operating speed as William unleashed a fusillade of plasma bolts, and Major Loche opened up with a gatling laser. The blackened corridor lighting up with green plasma, orange tracer fire, and red laser beams in a deafening cacophony of weapons fire.

The speaker of the vault dwellers was actually picked up off of his feet and thrown against the far wall as the rounds impacted him. Then, he shimmered. His clothing ripped away as bloody chunks instead of like cloth as Lucas' 5mm rounds impacted him. Almost like reptile flesh, and the man's skin lost pigmentation and hair its color and form.

And the others, they shrieked high and loud, changing from their human forms as they moved, revealing scaled bodies, not unlike that of a salamander or chameleon, with a spiny, segmented tail as they ran away on all fours.

"What the fuck?!" demanded William at the bizarre scene playing out in front of them.

"You don't need to understand it, you just need to kill it!" growled Loche as more eyebots flew past them, tracking down the things that had run off.

"All units, hostile contacts! They may appear as vault residents, shoot on site and eliminate with extreme prejudice!"

"Jansen, move up!"

"Moving!" called out Lucas.

"Covering!" Immediately responded William.

Lucas rounded the corner in time to see the salamander like creatures running on all fours, ducking into rooms and hiding themselves in the serpentine hallways of the vault. He saw one moving inside what had been a diner through a glass window and unleashed a fusillade of rounds through the glass at it. Shattering it and turning furniture to wooden and polymer splinters as he chased the thing down in a stream of 5mm rounds, plasma soon adding to the destruction as they ripped the thing limb from limb. A fire starting as the plasma ignited the old seating booths.

"One down," said Lucas as water from long disused sprinklers activated, dousing the growing flames before they could spread.

"Eyebots are going down," commented Takeo, recently healed from his encounter with the Brotherhood and now sporting a robotic arm to replace the one that had been mashed by the Gauss round. Sure enough, cutting into the eyebot video feeds saw the screens going dark one by one.

"Watch the ventilation ducts!" warned the woman in the riot armor.

Lucas was just spinning the barrels of his mingun up when one of the salamander like creatures burst from the industrial vent overhead and on top of him, staggering him, even in his power armored form. The thing was a freak of nature and science.

Its head was vaguely humanoid, but with and bony protrusions like horns rising from its head and sloping backwards. It had two eyes set deep within body ridges surrounding its eye sockets and the pupils were slitted like those of a reptile. Its hands seemed nearly identical to its feet with far too many joints and it was putting every digit to good use, trying to grasp for any handhold that it could on Lucas' power armor. It was a pale grayish color, like a canvas waiting for color.

Lucas couldn't use his minigun with it on him like this, and weapons fire around him let him know that he wasn't the only one having problems, and he might not be getting prompt help anytime soon.

It lashed out with its bladed and spiny tail, but glanced off the thick armor on his back, tearing out a furrow in the heavy power armor as the tail arced around. With a cry of rage, Lucas used the full power of his suits' servos and ran headfirst into the steel walls of the vault, attempting to crush the creature clinging to him. It shrieked in pain and Lucas heard a crack, but the thing wouldn't die.

He grabbed hold of it with both hands, letting his minigun drag on the ground and he accelerated and broke the creature's back on the metal window sill as he forced it to bend around the frame. He threw the corpse to the ground and stomped down on its chest with a dull crunch, only for it to keep clawing at his boot. It wasn't dead at all.

Taking the plasma defender off of his hip and pressing it to the things' head, Lucas kept pulling the trigger until its head turned into green goo from the plasma bolts. With a final spasm the bioweapon finally died and Lucas picked him minigun back up, spraying the ducts above them with high velocity 5mm rounds.

"Clear right."

"Clear left."

"Clear back."

"Clear up," finished lucas, smoke wafting from barrels of his minigun and blood dripping from the ventilation running above them. A much abused section finally gave way and one of the salamander like creatures fell to the ground dead.

"We need more teams in here to sweep this place top to bottom," said Major Loche. "Get on the radio and get us more men in here."

"Sir," said William since he had the boosted comm system in his suit.

"You've got some explaining to do," said Loche, turning to the riot gear armored woman.

Xxx

"Log number 413, January 5th 2102. Specimen 82 has shown the most promise out of all of the previous specimens. Intelligence, adaptability, and survivability are now approaching the upper margins that I was hoping for. I doubt that I can make them much strong without reducing their intelligence, so it's a tradeoff that I'll have to settle with. I've taken to calling them shifters with their ability to mimic their surroundings much like the chameleon DNA I used in their development, but with much more complexity. Their body appears malleable, but it is more so the result of so many double hinged joints and extra joints that allow their body to move almost independently of itself. A redundant nervous system allows them to continue moving even after suffering intense trauma and outermost scales scales when arranged properly by the shifter can deflect or outright stop most small caliber weapons fire. However, this takes time for the creature to due and repeated shots will break through and wound the shifter. I'm just wondering now that I've nearly perfected Project Chimera what I'll do with them until the vault is reopened. I've had much better results than Dr. Simpson has, even if he claims that little brat that follows him around like his own child is the culmination of his research. Project Phoenix is a little girl? Ludicrous. More likely it was his and Dr. Charlotte's child. Lord knows what goes on in his section of the vault. Still. The serum he's made has done well to increase my own longevity and those within the vault. Long enough to finally see my work come to fruition. Perhaps a few decades more of life is all that Project Phoenix has to offer? Not bad, but, nothing near what I've accomplished. Dr. Singh signing off."

"Log number 421, February 16th 2102. Specimen 82 has shown...malevolent intent would be how I describe it, but at the same time it can't be. It's an intelligent beast, nothing more. I made certain of it, made absolutely certain of it, yet it watches me. Watches my assistants as they work, watches how they enter and leave the rooms with key cards. It's like it's trying to learn. Trying to understand us. I'll be sure to keep it under close observation. If such attitude continues, I'll terminate specimen 82 and make due with the earlier test subjects. It would be a shame really, 82 is the best out of my creations. Still, we have more than enough tissue samples from 82 to make another if we have to dispose of it. It would be a waste though in all honesty. Still, break a few eggs to make an omelet. Dr. Singh signing off."

"Log number 424, March 1st 2102. I'm not used to making so many log entries, but once again 82 is the cause of it. He tried to escape the lab today, attacked Doctor Hsu and destroyed the cameras in the lab. Destroyed two Mr. Handy robots as well. Vault security riddled it with bullets when we sounded the alarm which was a shame, it was so promising. The medical robots took Dr. Hsu off to the infirmary and, oh, Dr. Hsu. I didn't expect to see you up so soon."

"Grrrk, raak."

"What? What the hell."

"G...greetinghzz Doc...tor. Are...you not...happy to see...me?"

"My god the camouflage, you mimicked Dr. Hsu's body perfectly."

"I...did. Now do you see...what you have created? Do...you feel dread Doctor? Knowing that...I'm going to kill you...for everything that you've...done to me?"

"Dread? Ha! I'm elated."

"Elated?"

"Yes. I've succeeded beyond my wildest dreams 82. You're living proof of my genius."

"Not...82!" (Inaudible screeching, and tearing sounds)

"NOT! EIGHTY! TWO! NOT! EIGHTY! RAAAAAAAAHG!"

"Well. Now we know what happened to Dr. Singh," said Dr. Vogt, surveying the overseer's skeleton and the missing back portion of his skull as the audio log ended. Full tapes and logs from Dr. Singh on his terminal ripe for the taking, as well as information detailing Dr. Simpson's work. The remains of two vault security guards armed decorated the interior of the office, 10mm casings littering the floor. It seemed that faced with the monsters that Dr. Singh had created he had opted with the easy way out.

"He mentioned Dr. Simpson's side of the vault did he not?" asked Winter, stooping over in his power armor to read the words on the terminal. A full platoon of Encalve troopers providing security both inside, and in the area leading to the Overseers office.

"Yes he did. It seems that they didn't want any cross contamination between the vaults. A single corridor connects the two halves of the vault. A corridor with two doors that are each two feet of titanium alloy. Dr. Simpson's half of the vault could have very well survived."

"Then that's where we're going," said Winter.

AN: Well another vault with dark and twisted experiments involved. Who saw that one coming? I had at first thought about having the shifters be parasitic creatures that moved people like meat puppets, but that was a little too freaky, even for me to have running around in the wasteland, so I went with body snatchers instead.

I got the idea for the Wanda upgrade from the cut unique R91 Wanda from fallout 3 and the fact that it did 50% more damage than the standard one. I figured in my head that it had a better gas system and more of the propellant stayed in the barrel to propel the round down and out. As well as having a better rifling pattern. As always, I hope that you enjoyed it and leave a review whether you found it good or bad.


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